Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Broken If You Look Closely

Sunlight. Ungrateful wretch. Coffee is fine. The walls are moving.

The walls are not moving. But Robert McCloskey is the problem. Or else my harmonica truly is broken. If you look closely you'll see turtles crossing.

In the painting he looked almost peaceful as if. And when it rained the sheep came down the hills. Odd numbers are like white sails where the ocean appears flat. Nobody has been more like a young man with wings than moi.

Any measurement that assumes quantitative authority is inherently deceptive and will be shot. In the morning we will begin drafting a new poem composed entirely of words. There was this mountain, you see, and when silver clouds broke around it you breathed. All was sweetness and light until the time came to choose hymns for the funeral service.

Looking back is not the same as nostalgia although any good herpetologist will not tell you why. The more a given narrative resembles Tupperware the more likely I am to wonder about alternative religions. Twenty-five years later she could barely make out what was being said to her and photographs were no help.

How fast the lilac blossoms grow dull and droop, he thought, allowing his father's pen to fall from his fingers.

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